


Children Of The Moon

by Chaosrain



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 18:18:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1357285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaosrain/pseuds/Chaosrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They only ever remembered him when they needed him. Stiles was sick of it, he wanted no part in it. He would live out his life as a normal teenage boy. But would the others let him? Especially with rumours of the Alpha pack floating through the supernaturally aware community. And what's the mysterious secret behind his mother's heritage. AU, set after Kanima- No decided pairing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A soft moan broke through the mundane hum of the muted television. Genim "Stiles" Stilinski shifted uncomfortably at his desk, the chair creaking gently as he broke out of his hazy slumber. The 16 year old straightened, awkwardly stretching upwards and wincing when a kink in his shoulder made itself known.

This is not how Stiles wanted to spend his Friday nights.

The aftermath of the Kanima incident gave the awkward group anything but closure. Gerard, the wicked bastard, escaped. He had somehow managed to flee the scene when they were all preoccupied with Jackson's death, followed by his revival… And then his transformation. Stiles had always wondered about that, Lydia's kiss must have been truly magical. He silently squashed the thought, reminding himself that he'd likely never be on the receiving end of such.

Putting that aside, something about that night perturbed Stiles, more so than the other bewildering turn of events.

Just how did an elderly man-recently-turned-werewolf survive spewing his insides in the form of black ooze, his blood teaming with toxic wolfsbane and somehow -still- manage to pull himself up and escape? Fast enough to avoid a skilled hunter and a pack of werewolves no less. It made no sense. None at all.

Which brings us to now.

A tired huff escaped Stiles' lips as he groggily rubbed his eyes before running his fingers through his short, cropped hair.

"Damn it…" he muttered as he glared at his computer screen. His whisky coloured eyes flickering over the latin words before him. Derek and Scott have (once again) left him with the research. They wanted to know how Gerard managed to elude them. Not to mention expecting him to have more of the bestiary translated. The frustrated teen huffed as he skimmed through the text.

He shook his head, as he tried to rid himself of the exhaustion. It's not like he wasn't used to the rigour of this kind of research, in fact, Stiles was more than familiar with late hours, copious reading and a knack for sieving through fiction. Its just that recently things have been different, to the point where he'd began questioning whether his part in all of this was really worth the effort.

To paint an accurate picture, it's only right to review how it all began. Or rather, with who it began.

It was Scott.

His best friend was the single most important living person in his life besides his father. If he hadn't been bitten none of this would have happened-

"..." An awkward silence accompanied that thought.

All the blame couldn't be pinned on Scoot. If Stiles hadn't coerced him to go into the woods looking for a dead body, perhaps all the supernatural mishaps, the research, the bruises, the danger could have been avoided.

Initially his overwhelming guilt, curiosity and his attachment to Scott fuelled his investment in the supernatural, but all Stiles really yearned for was a normal high school life. He wanted to get a girlfriend. He wanted to fall in love. And he definitely wanted to lose his virginity- he wanted it all. Unlike Scott, he didn't have supernatural powers to grant him the perfect immune systems, lovely skin, rippling muscles and a keen sense of smell that could sniff out emotions.

Besides, Scott seemed to be doing just fine since Stiles helped reign in his wolf. He got everything he'd wanted after the bite. Before the Kanima, his focus was almost entirely on Allison and their love. Stiles didn't judge him at all, its perfectly reasonable to spend time with your girlfriend. I mean hey, why rain on his parade? Stiles only saved his life and stood beside him since the third grade- why should he expect some time aside where the conversation wouldn't revolve around Scott and his girlfriend? So Stiles was a little bitter.

After his break up with Allison and her planned departure to France, Stiles was practically bouncing off the walls at the prospect of finally spending the whole summer with Scott. Of course this was after the solemn understanding and sympathy he felt towards his best friend's plight. Stiles planned all sorts of fun movie nights and gaming marathons to pull his best friend out of his gloom and doom. Alas, it seemed like life had other plans.

Scott only got worse.

His dearest best friend has been spending most of his time with Isaac Lahey- Derek's recently turned minion. A tall, sexy minion- One of three.

Figures a roguishly, unfairly attractive man like Derek Hale would find suitably unfairly attractive underlings.

Beneath his bitter pain and frustration, Stiles was secretly happy for his best friend. He was surrounded by people like him. People who understood what he was going through. Friends to learn from and a pack who needed him to cope with their wolves. Stiles was only human after all. A boring old Human. Why keep him around? He was part of the race that was basically seen as poultry by the supernatural world. Weakest, unaware and otherwise completely bland.

And frankly? Stiles wouldn't have it any other way.

He didn't want to become a beast. A monstrous creature that forgot the fundamental basics of morality, corrupted by power and desire. Stiles paused, having lost his focus on the manuscript before him. He sighed and glanced around the room. He wasn't going to get any sleep anytime soon, so he figured he may as well clean his room. He got up and walked around his bare feet rustling the blue carpet as he went about picking up the sprawled books and the littered clothing.

He let his thoughts wander as he went about the mundane task of tidying. He heard from Danny that Jackson was still around. Technically he was supposed to be leaving by the end of the summer, not that Stiles minded, in fact he was delighted that the jockey prick was leaving. With him gone, maybe there was tiny minuscule shred of a chance that Lydia would notice him.

Lydia...

He honestly loved her. He was smitten with her since the third grade. Her lovely eyes, perfect complexion and riveting hair, and that smile. That luminescent smile. What's there not to love? Well, besides the snarky personality. But Stiles overlooked it. He knew the real Lydia, the girl beneath the cold placid exterior. He had seen her warmth a few times, and it was then in middle school that Stiles Stilinski decided that Lydia Martin was a goddess of sorts. Well, if not a Goddess, she was something. Ridiculously intelligent, beautiful, prone to finding dead bodies and appearing in the most inopportune times? Immune to the werewolf bite? Yes, Lydia Martin was no ordinary human and until he found out what she was, he would think of her as the unattainable goddess roaming the halls of Beacon High.

Stiles shut his eyes and let himself fall backwards, moaning softly when his back hit the comfortable feathery fluff that was his beloved bed. He lay there a moment, rolling over as he wrapped the comforter around himself. He inhaled softly in its embrace. He laughed softy, a bitter wistful sound.

"How far have you fallen, Stiles?" He murmured quietly. He was lonely, he could admit that much. His friends had their own lives. His father was busy, and Stiles never wanted to burden him with his silly teenage troubles. It was enough that he was a single father to a very expensive, troublesome kid. They haven't gotten to spend much time together recently, the occasional dinner here and there. And of course, Stiles always cooked.

The teen enjoyed cooking. It was one of the reminiscent memories he had of his mother. It made him feel closer to her.

Before she passed, Stiles would always help with dinner. Humming softly on the chair as he watched her make the most delicious meals, the skill somehow passed down to him, not that anyone knew that. He'd never cooked for anyone but himself and his father. It wasn't that he was embarrassed- it came down to no one staying long enough to find out. After all, who comes into the home of a busy sheriff and teenager with ADHD and expect a well prepared meal.

It was still painful, how much he missed his mother. As much as his father still missed her.

Stiles often hoped his father would eventually move on. That he'd try and be happy again, but he always held back. And Stiles couldn't help but feel he was partially responsible.

Stiles was pulled out of his musings by the sound of his window opening. He rolled his eyes and grumbled. "Dude, Scott, do you know what time it is-" As Stiles turned to the window, he stopped mid sentence and blinked a few times, it wasn't his childhood friend standing there.

"Derek?" He asked uncertainly.

The dark, brooding alpha silently ducked in through his window. He crossed his arms over his chest, the black t-shirt doing nothing to hide the chiselled body beneath. It was like the gods had sculpted the tor- 'Bad thoughts' He mentally reprimanded himself, he wasn't checking Derek out. He was just making an observation. Completely impartial observation. Totally.

Stiles cleared his throat and glanced around his room. Derek stood silently, watching Stiles behind his placid mask of indifference. His brows furrowed into his trademark scowl.

"Stiles.." He growled, as his eyes narrowed. The teenager's heart thumped in his chest and he swallowed nervously, a bead of sweat rolling down his neck. So maybe he was still a little afraid of Derek, especially when they were alone. He was an alpha werewolf for god's sake! One who proved more than a handful of times he wasn't against inflicting bodily harm to get his way.

"Look, I didn't do it! I swear it was probabl-"

"Why didn't you come today?" Derek cut him off, his tone laced with irritation. Stiles blinked a few times before he tilted his head in confusion.

"Come where?" He replied carefully, his fingers running over the hem of his t-shirt.

Derek growled again and took a step forward. "Pack meeting."

Stiles blinked again, his whisky coloured eyes focusing on the alpha's face. "Why am I supposed to go to pack meetings? I am not even a werewolf- not saying I want to be." he quickly added. "I have enough on my plate at the moment, flees and pining I definitely -don't- need to add to the lis-" A growl cut through his words and Stiles frowned, untangling himself from the comforts of his blanket and sitting up on his bed.

"I am serious Derek, I am not a member of any pack." He crossed his arms and turned his head up to match Derek's gaze. "I am fragile, okay? I can't go around throwing my life into all sorts of dangerous freaky supernatural, I am not buffy. And I sure as hell don't heal like you do."

Stiles glanced away, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I am the only thing my dad has left, I can't be so selfish anymore."

Derek chose to remain Silent, his eyes glowed red as he leaned forward and sniffed. "We'll protect you."

Stiles new the alpha was trying to reach out to him in his own way, but his words only caused the teen to bristle. "I don't need you to protect me, Derek." He shut his eyes and held the bridge of his nose. "Look, I am just busy- if you need me for something specific, you know my number." He exhaled softy, his eyes fluttering open to gaze up at the Alpha.

Derek watched him silently for a few moments and Stiles shifted on the balls of his feet awkwardly. To him, it felt like forever before the Alpha finally spoke.

"Fine." His tone was rough, curt and irritable.

Stiles blinked a few times, rolling his eyes. "Did you really need all those agonising seconds of silence before saying fine?"

"Yes." Was the wolf's gruff answer. Stiles eyed the werewolf flatly, waiting for him to say more. Derek, as though to spite him, turned around, ducked halfway out of the window.

"Look up what you can on alpha packs, we suspect they may be coming to town." And he was gone. Stiles' jaw fell open.

"What a sour doucheba-" a loud growl had Stiles's mouth shut quickly. The teen shivered, flinching as he went to his desk, muttering silently to himself as he began his research.

"I am growing Wolfsbane around the house. And I might as well bury a circle of mountain ash too." he grumbled. It wasn't a bad idea, really. This way he could protect his home from the potentially dangerous pack of Alphas and enjoy a werewolf free haven.

"Killing two birds with one stone."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Stiles' isolation process begins. As he is about to leave Deaton's to get supplies, something strange occurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got 3 Kudos! Woot, If it's angst you want! It is what you'll get! But in due time... The poor boy is still trying to keep everything together. This chapter has more character interactions. Could you let me know if I am portraying the characters correctly? I'd really appreciate it. Anywho, enjoy.

The weekend was relatively uneventful. With nothing to do, Stiles figured it was a good a time as any to get started on the garden.

On Saturday afternoon he went to pay Deaton visit. He ordered a decent amount of mountain ash and a few Wolfsbane seeds. Stiles already ordered live plants, he reckoned they'd arrive either on Monday or Tuesday. The plants themselves were surprisingly cheap, especially considering how useful they were. Then again, to humans they weren't the prettiest or most lovely scented. Anyway, plants or not, one can never be too prepared. Which is exactly why he was currently standing in the section of the shop that shelved seeds.

Stiles paused, thinking about how crazy this all was. It was all a little surreal. Stiles put a hand over his mouth and cackled quietly, it was as though he was in a video game creating an impenetrable fortress. If you think about it objectively, how hard could it be? Stiles wasn't just any old silly teenager after all. He played dungeons and dragons. He was mentally prepared for anything, including a zombie apocalypse- he even had the plan all written out. The awkward teen liked to think that his fantastical gaming experiences counted for over a 1000 hours of supernatural work experience. Musing out of his thought he recalled a scenario in which they rein-acted the battle of Hornburg.

"And here we make our last stand! Helm's deep will not fall." Stiles whispered, cackling softly as his inner geek clawed out of him.

Besides It was all about knowing thy enemy. And he was certain he knew the enemy more than they knew themselves- well, it was certainly the case with Scott, Isaac, Jackson, Erica and Boyd.

Stiles was too preoccupied with the inner workings of his mind to notice the emissary staring at him with a contemplative gaze as he browsed the shelves, raising a brow as the teen idly picked up different seeds for flowering wolfsbane plants. Nor did Stiles notice the man's brow shoot up further whenever the teen cackled softly and rubbed his hands together in an ominous almost sinister fashion. The wise man quietly stepped forward before tactfully broaching the topic.

"Everything alright, Stiles?" He asked calmly. Stiles whipped around, whisky brown eyes wide as his arms flailed outwards in surprise.

"Holy Shi- Deaton! You scared the hell out of me!" The teen placed a hand on his heart, laughing awkwardly as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his head with the other. "Yes, yes! Everything's great!" The vet met him with a disbelieving gaze.

"Is that so?" Was the vet's skeptical reply. The man clasped his hands behind his back as he walked towards the counter from the back office. He glanced away from Stiles as he passed him to reach the counter. "Can I ask why you're so invested in plants toxic to werewolves and mountain ash?"

Stiles frowned slightly, Deaton was usually the first to know about these things.

"You haven't heard?" The teen tilted his head slightly, tucking his hands into his back pockets. "Derek mentioned something about an alpha pack. Told me to be prepared." Which wasn't a total lie! Derek said he should research. This can definitely be counted as research... Research that indiscriminately kept werewolves away.

"Is that all?" The vet turned to the boy once again and continued to watch him, as though trying to pry into his mind. It was like he already knew that it was more than the alpha pack he wanted to keep out of his home. If Stiles was completely honest, the old emissary had a creepy way of making him feel like an open book. The teen's heart rate picked up and he exhaled softly, shifting his gaze to glance around the room.

The awkward human felt the need to say something. There was nothing he hated more than an uncomfortable silence. Whilst on the other hand, Deaton seemed to be exactly opposite. A man of few words and the emotional spectrum of a tea spoon, to take the words out of Hermione's mouth. Stiles subconsciously snickered whilst his slender fingers tugged at the hem of his hoodie, fidgeting briefly before he replied.

"… Yeah. Yup. Most certainly, that's all. Weak human here," He pointed at himself. "Voodoo is all I have left." he paused and let out an exaggerated sigh. "Sarcasm hasn't been as effective recently. Not as effective at repelling the supernatural as it once used to be" Stiles' gaze shifted back to the emissary only to find him wearing a small frown that creased his dark brow. Deaton held his chin between his fingers as his eyes scanned the teen's form before the dark orbs of his eyes rested on Stiles' face once more.

"Do you feel different, Stiles?" The teen blinked once, and twice more. He hadn't seen that question coming.

"Um, no.. Not really?" He laughed awkwardly and flexed his arms. "Why? Have you noticed I've been working out?" He leaned to the side and kissed his flexed bicep beneath his trademark red hoodie. Nothing like a good natured joke to break the tension.

Deaton seemed to think otherwise. He gave Stiles a deadpanned level look. The vet rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. Everything about his annoyed expression said 'immature teenagers.' Stiles couldn't help but grin in response to the vet's reaction. He followed the man as he walked around the counter, waiting for the older man to speak-which he did.

* * *

"Stiles, do you recall what I told you? About the spark within every living creature?"

The teen nodded, "Yeah." He couldn't help the grin that spread across his lips. "I used it to surround the whole club when we ran out of mountain ash."

At his words, the druid's brows rose in surprise. It was rare that someone managed to do so without training, especially for an ordinary teenager- a human no less. He watched Stiles carefully and nodded.

"Then the amount of ash you would require, by normal standards will only be half of what you normally would need." He turned to bag the items Stiles ordered before continuing on to explain.

"The spark, depending on one's ability, can enhance the properties of magical items." He turned to face Stiles once again. "And that includes mountain ash."

The teenager's eyes were alight with curiosity and fascination. He leaned forward with his elbows propped on the counter and gushed out a multitude of questions.

"How can you tell? What kind of spark do I have? How much of it? How strong is it?"

Deaton smiled, it was faint and brief, but Stiles definitely saw one! A smile! The awkward teen couldn't help but rub the back of his head sheepishly as he waited for a response. The druid reached under the counter and pulled out an old leather-bound book. It wasn't large by any means, the size of a pocket diary. The vet reached out and handed it over.

"This will answer your questions."Stiles smiled with glee, took the little book and pocketed it before reaching for his wallet.

"How much do I owe, doc?" He pulled out a hundred note and glanced up at the vet who only smiled.

"I'll only charge for the seeds, 15$ all together." Stiles' eyes bugged out of his head and he gave the man a radiant smile.

"Seriously?! Thank you so much! Seriously doc, if you ever need anything! Just call, I can make a mean batch of cookies a-" the delighted teen was cut off by the sound of a ringing bell, signalling the entrance of another.

Stiles groaned internally but maintained his smile. He turned to the vet, placed the money in his outstretched hand before taking the bags off the counter. He turned fully and gave the new comer a grin. After all, it could only be one of two people given the time.

"Hey... Isaac, how do you do?" Stiles asked awkwardly, giving him a quirky smile as he put on an accent. The taller teen's lips tugged up faintly before he responded.

"Good, you?"

"I am great!" Stiles almost winced as the words left his lips. He had answered way too quickly, he forced his grin wider as if to cover up his blunder. He figured he looked ridiculous at the moment, grinning like a twitchy cheshire cat. Stiles needed to salvage the situation which would mean he'd have to open his perilous gob once again- a risk he had to take.

"Starting your shift?" he asked smoothly before clearing his throat.

The taller teen nodded in response, his blue eyes did nothing to hide the curious gleam. Stiles gave a curt nod in response before shrugging his shoulder and smiling between the two others in the shop.

"Well! I'll just leave you two to it." He turned back to Deaton and gave a curt nod before glancing back at Isaac. "Enjoy!"

If Stiles' didn't know better, he'd swear there was a hint of concern in Isaac's gaze. Stiles shrugged of the thought and walked towards the door. Isaac was polite enough to step out of the way. Stiles mumbled his thanks and stepped forward, before the teen was fully out the door, Isaac reached out and gently grabbed Stiles' forearm. The taller teen leaned down, his clear blue eyes gazed into Stiles' as he spoke quietly.

"Are you okay?" Stiles blinked in response and gave a nod before speaking.

"I am fine…" he replied with a tilt of his head. The whisky eyed teen averted his gaze and leaned closer. "Um.. Are you okay?" He asked the taller one in return.

"You smell different." Isaac frowned slightly, ignoring Stiles' question.

"Someone's been hanging around Derek too much." Stiles muttered. What else are you supposed to say to that? He blinked a few times and shifted the bags in his hands as he leaned back, putting some space between him and the young werewolf. Undeterred, Isaac leaned down and sniffed the crook of Stiles' neck again.

Something about being sniffed and profiled by scent felt awfully invasive and a total breach of personal boundaries, more so when you barely knew the guy!

"That's kind of weird, Isaac… Stop sniffing me." Stiles averted his gaze awkwardly before whisky brown eyes met sky blue ones once more. The two remained silent and Stiles tried to control the racing of his heart- he needed to work on his emotional control. Likely sensing Stiles' discomfort, the young werewolf's lip twitched faintly but he obliged by releasing the shorter teen's arm. Isaac chuckled softly before shaking his head, perhaps realising that proclaiming someone smelt different was weird if not flat out rude.

"Sorry." He mused, smiling down at Stiles. The awkward teen's eyes narrowed ever so slightly after the apology, there was something about the way Isaac smiled that was inexplicably patronising.

Stiles gave Isaac a quick nod and shifted his bags again. "Yeah, no problem- I guess you can't really help your wolfy-canine habits." He cleared his throat and his eyes flickered to his car. "Anyway, I'll see you around, Isaac."

"Later." was the taller teen's reply. Stiles felt Isaac's gaze on his back as he walked out. He berated himself silently as his pace quickened. Deaton and Isaac likely saw right through his sunny-go-lucky facade. I mean really, Stiles didn't grin or smile _that_ often.

Supernatural senses suck.

No matter, he had all he needed. It was time to barricade the fort! Stiles put the key in the ignition and his beloved jeep roared to life.

"To arms!" He whooped as he pushed his foot down on the pedal, he would get the ash up today- the flowers can wait until later in the week.

He convinced himself he was fine, that he was alright. He didn't realise the only thing keeping his life together was pretending he was part of a fantastical video game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it folks, chapter 2! Read and review! Suggestions? Preferences? I still need a beta.. So I apologise if typos and mistakes are littered throughout the chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of Saturday passed by before he knew it. Stiles moaned as he stared at the shadowed ceiling. He spent the rest of the day productively, he got on top of all his school work in a matter of hours. The kid was brilliant in his own right, his intelligence went beyond survivability and street smarts. Behavioural issues and a tendency to deviant aside. he was a straight A student, taking electives and AP classes whilst juggling an online gifted program's course. Lydia, of course, happened to be in many of those but she chose not too take as many as she could handle. Stiles figured it had to do with her image, after all, being too smart didn't quite fit the school's stereotypical popular female.

Stiles set down his chemistry text book, running his hands through his hair, ruffling the short auburn strands. "It must be quite late by now," he mused to himself, tilting his head back, his whisky eyes glanced towards his night stand.

The digital clock blinked away.

11 pm and his dad still wasn't home. He wasn't all that surprised, really. There's always something that needs to be done at the Sheriff's office, paperwork, interviews, patrols- If he was perfectly honest, Stiles thought his dad worked way too hard. Especially considering his wage. The hyperactive teen Stifled a yawn as he leaned back into his reclining chair, feeling unusually drained. He rubbed his bleary eyes and hoped off his chair. The teen stretched outwards, reaching up on the tips of his toes before he was struck by an idea. A slow grin crept across his lips as he turned on his heel.

"Alright Stiles, its baking time!" The chestnut haired teen reached into his drawer and pulled out a one piece jumper, pulling the purple hoodie flaunting the picture of Nico Robin over his head. She was his favourite female character in the Japanese manga series. Smart, strong, patient, beautiful and ever so sly- and most importantly, she was the only female character that doesn't need constant saving.

The teen slipped his feet into furry white bedroom slippers before making his way out of his room. He figured the cooking would take his mind off the silence. Whilst he was getting slightly used to it, being alone with no one around in near complete silence left him feeling slightly on edge. And leaving himself to his thoughts? Well, that was something he was becoming afraid to do. It often left him feeling exhausted if not morbidly depressed. Stiles shook his head briefly as he walked down the stairs and made his way towards the kitchen.

"Lets see..." he mused as he rolled up his sleeves and trudged towards the counter "Deaton likes cookies, right? I mean everyone likes cookies- hell even werewolf like cookies," the teen reached beneath the counter for all the utensils he would need. He shot up, a thoughtful gleam in his eyes. "… What kind of cookies do druids eat?" The teen furrowed his brows and silently contemplated what to make. He gave a faint shrug, with his arms flailing at his sides.

If Deaton didn't like his home made chocolate chip cookies, Stiles decided that he would be finding another supernatural dealer. Only true villains could hate chocolate chip cookies… "Unless you're allergic." He mumbled to himself as his mind wandered into the domain of potential druid allergies.

* * *

It was well past 12 when Stiles was out of the kitchen, cookies ready and wrapped to be delivered to the helpful vet. He left a batch for his dad like he always did, the sheriff always loved his food. "Just like your mother's" He often said, a distant longing in his eyes as he smiled down at his son. It's such a bitter sweet thing to say, and it often caused his chest to swell with pride and sting with sadness.

Stiles plopped down on the couch and picked his phone off the floor.

4 miss calls and 3 text messages from Scott. Stiles' brows rose as he read the messages.

8 PM: "Dude, where are you? We're supposed to be meeting up with the pack today, remember?" Stiles deleted the message and moved to the next one.

8:45 PM: "Stiles come on, pick up your phone!" Delete.

10:37 PM: "Dude, what the fuck! We can't get past the garden!? Did Deaton ward your house?" Stiles laughed at that, rolling his eyes. Of course, Scott thought he wasn't capable of doing it himself his phone buzzed in his hands and stiles read his recently received message.

12:30 AM: "STILES!"

Stiles grinned and tossed his phone over his shoulder. Now he knew his mountain ash rune circle worked! And considering how he'd laid it out, it'll be lasting for a while. Stiles had never felt quite so satisfied. Take that werewolves, little red riding hood just gave you the massive finger. A small voice in the back of his head assured him that this would solve nothing. Being the rational person Stiles is, he stomped out the thought and embraced the satisfaction of having bested the werewolves.

The Stilinski house was no longer a puppy pit stop.

Stiles kicked off his Slippers and propped his feet on the counter, sinking into the couch before he lazily reached across the sofa and grabbed the remote. Moments later, the tv came to life with the sound of battle- better time as ever to catch up on The Game of thrones. He would deal with the mess that was McCall tomorrow.

* * *

Sunday morning rolled on and Stiles blinked bleary, shifting from his position. He brought his hand to his lips and yawned, squinting as he glanced around. By the looks of it, he'd fallen asleep on the couch. The teen reached down and smiled fondly at the blanket casually draped over his shoulders. His dad must have draped the blanket over him when he'd come home. Stiles truly loved his father and his father him. Stiles would no longer take his life for granted, he couldn't let his father go through the suffering he had undergone when his mom died. He wrapped the fluffy blanket around his shoulders and dragged his feet across the carpet, trudging across the unforgiving room towards his beloved footwear.

He moaned softly as his feet slipped into the fluffy bliss that was his bed slippers. Stiles' eyes narrowed in the morning light and the tired teen made his way towards the kitchen. With his fluffy steed acquired, Stiles could survive the perilous journey across the cold, frigid tiles that paved the only way to the elixir of life.

Stiles crossed the room and stood in the doorway. His eyes glazed over, and he let out a strangled sound, "Dad… I love you." Stiles rushed forwards and dove at the counter!

"Cooooffeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" He cried out as he reached for the heated beverage. He poured the liquid life into his mug and groaned softly as he warmed his hands on the mug. He sniffed the delicious aroma and his eyes opened ever so slightly, he intertwined his fingers with the handle and then delicately brought the mug to his lips. He expelled a tired breath of air, sipping carefully before falling back onto the kitchen chair. For just a moment- his world was complete and utter bliss.

But sadly, just like everything in this world, the precious moments of bliss vanished, paving the way for Stiles' now functioning brain to paint the way back to reality. Stiles drank more of his coffee, scowling and turning his nose up at the prospect of having to do things today. The awkward teen glanced towards the oven, towards the bleeping lights. It was 9:30, not bad- roughly 6 hours of sleep, it was more than he usually got in 2 days. Right! First things first. He had to make a mental checklist of things to do.

First thing on the list was breakfast. Because Stiles was hungry. And hungry Stiles was a grumpy Stiles. He sipped more of his coffee as he quietly sieved through his thoughts.

The next thing to do was deliver the cookies to Deaton, he chanced the idea that Scott wouldn't be at the vet's so early, and knowing his best friend he gave himself a 5% chance of encounter. The odds weren't bad. Speaking of his furry friend, he needed to patch things up with him- well, by that he meant come up with a convincing excuse for simply refusing to talk to anyone yesterday. Shouldn't be a problem. His eyes sparkled faintly as he thought of the fourth activity on his checklist. The teen stood up and set his mug in the sink before making his way to fridge. He was in the mood for waffles.

Some time later, a satisfied Stiles leaned back into his seat. Breakfast? Check! It's time to pay Deaton a visit.

He got himself out of the chair and made his way to his room for a quick shower. Stiles eventually managed to force himself out of the comforts of the warm, pressured water before trudging into his room after drying himself off. The teen tapped his chin in thought, contemplating what to wear. Not a second later, he grinned and pulled out his spongebob boxers and slipped them on before discarding his towel.

So maybe he was a little too old to have these, but he couldn't help it! It was so perfectly quirky. The rest of his clothes were easy, he tugged on regular faded jeans, before pulling on a grey avengers t-shirt and his trademark red hoodie.

He ruffled his hair in a nonchalant manner and trotted down the stairs after slipping on some shoes, grabbed his keys, cell and tucked the box of cookies under his arm before making his way out the door and into his precious jeep. He set the cookies on the passenger seat and tugged the safety belt over the wrapped box and stuck his key into the ignition. And he was off, casually driving towards Deaton's whilst singing along to blaring 90s music. Why? Because why the heck not!

* * *

Stiles eventually slowed and parked his car in front of the vets. He glanced at his phone, 11:20. He'd made moderately good time getting there.

Or not..

He shrugged gently, it didn't really matter that much anyway, it was still a little early for Scott to be here. Stiles unclasped the safety belt before tucking the box under his arm and making his way into the vet's.

The bell rang as it often did when the door opened. The awkward teen hummed quietly as he glanced around the store. No one around, huh? Stiles swayed on the balls of his feet and reached up with his free hand as he rubbed the back of his neck. What should he do? He didn't really want to wait long enough to bump into Scott or Isaac, but at the same time.. Wouldn't it be awkward if not a little suspicious to just leave a wrapped box of cookies on the counter?

Stiles chewed his lower lip as he weighed his options, he made his way forward and left the box on the counter. He glanced down and blinked, he could have written a card- that would have made leaving the cookies on the counter so much simp-

"My now what smells so delicious." A smooth voice mused behind him. Stiles stiffened, a shiver running up his spine at the sound of the man's voice. It bled power and danger. Stiles swallowed slowly and turned, coming face to face with a man with a cane.. And dark glasse- Great Stiles. You've become so paranoid, you got terrified by a blind man.

He silently berated himself and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, feeling a rather stupid. The man didn't look nearly as threatening as he sounded. The teen smiled faintly, regardless of the fact the older man couldn't see it. "Why thank you, sir. You have a good ey-" he winced at his indiscretion. "Err, good nose for sugary treats." He finished awkwardly, shifting the box from his hands to the top of the counter.

The man simply smiled as he folded his hands in front of him. "If I may ask, what's the source of that delicious scent?" He leaned forward and inhaled softly.

Stiles couldn't help the grin that spread across his lips. "Cookies! Home made chocolate chip cookies, actually."

"Is that so? Are you selling them? Back in my day, we often sold cookies to raise money for a good cause." The man replied smoothly, an almost fond smile making its way to his lips.

At that, Stiles couldn't help the light laughter that bubbled out of him. "I am afraid my years as a girl scout are long gone." Stiles replied wryly. He glanced down at the box. "These are a thank you gift to Dr. Deaton for helping me with some pest problems."

"That's rather thoughtful of you."

Stiles shifted slightly, glancing around. "Not really..." He shrugged his shoulders lightly. "I am just expressing my gratitude."

The man's head tilted ever so slightly before a chuckle escaped the his lips. "You don't find many like you these days, I find myself almost honoured to meet you."

Stiles blushed softly and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, not quite sure how to respond. Stiles mumbled his thanks and glanced around for a pen, finding one by the suggestion box, he quickly scribbled a note and left it on the box before leaning over the counter and leaving the gift on the clerk's side to be found by Deaton later.

"Uh.. I really should be going now, it was a pleasure sir." Stiles turned and glanced at the blind man who simply smiled.

"Please, call me Deaucalion."

Stiles smiled lightly. "Have a nice day, Deaucalion!"

The chestnut haired teen casually walked towards the door, this Deaucalion seemed like a nice enough guy… But something was off. Why hadn't Stiles heard the man come in?

His heart-rate picked up slightly and he swallowed slowly. Stiles paused just as he was out of the door, not able to shake off the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach, "Did you just come in, Deaucalion?" Stiles asked as he observed the man, secretly commending himself on his completely casual tone.

The blind man shifted in response, facing Stiles. He brushed his sleeves with his fingers before setting the tip of the cane back on the floor.

"I was in the waiting room." He replied politely, not missing a beat before elaborating. "My guide dog is in for the usual check up you see."

Stiles' whisky brown eyes twinkled in realisation. Of course he was in the waiting room, he would have seen him coming from the examination rooms and heard him walk through the door. Stiles shook his head, he was being silly and over thinking things. A nasty recent habit of his. The teen gave Deaucalion a nod, before rolling his eyes as he realised the man before him couldn't see.

"Oh, right… I hope your dog's okay." He cleared his throat and turned to leave. "Well, I best be off." He trailed off on his way out, catching himself before he said 'see you later.'

Stiles hadn't noticed the subtle sniff the man gave after he left, nor his flashing red eye and the curling of his lips into a sinister, fanged smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Dun, Dun, Dun! That's chapter 3! I hope you enjoyed this! Please read and review. Still looking for a beta! Any volunteers?


	4. Chapter 4

Lady luck was on his side for once. He'd missed both Scott and Isaac, encountered a friendly man and received a text from Deaton thanking him for the cookies.

Stiles casually walked out of his jeep and walked towards his porch, humming the pokemon tune to himself. He sighed softly, shutting his eyes and tilting his head back to let the sun hit his face. He stayed there for a moment, enjoying the warmth of the afternoon before continuing on his way.

He'd ticked off 2 things from his to do list, making him half way towards a night of cheesy movies and video games. He contemplate his options and his shoulders slumped slightly. He dug his phone out of his pocket, tapping on the screen sluggishly.

 **12:27:** Hey Scott, it's Stiles. My phone was acting up. Didn't hear the damn thing ring! Anyway, about the pack stuff… I've just been a bit busy with school stuff, ya know? I'll try and make the next one buddy! Enjoy work!

Stiles read over the message and gave a nod, before locking his phone with a gentle slide of his thumb across its screen. "That should do it."

Stiles ran his slender fingers through his hair, sighing softly as he tugged at the strands gently. He'd let his hair grow out a little, perhaps it was time to have it cut. The teen's eyes scanned around his home, his dad wasn't home. He ran a hand down his face in an irritable manner.

"Of course he's not home, he's always working." Stiles muttered, stomping towards the kitchen and grabbing a bag of doritos on his way up to his room.

He grabbed at his soft hair and tugged at it in annoyance.

"Why the fuck am I so moody?!" He cursed and threw the bag of chips onto his desk before flopping down onto his bed. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the room, his eyes falling upon a little book sitting perfectly untouched on his nightstand. Stiles paused, why the heck not? He was getting far to antsy to just sit around.

The teen scrambled across his bed, grabbing the book and opening it! His eyes narrowed and he yanked at the tiny diary, pulling it towards his face, studying the pages before pulling it back.

"That batty druid pulled a fast one!" Stiles scowled and flipped through the empty pages. "What am I supposed to do or learn from an empty boo-?" He stopped mid-sentence, squinting. Black shapes swirled around the first page, like smoke caught on a wisp of wind.

"Woah…" He blinked stupidly, this was just like scene from Harry Potter with Tom Riddle's diary!

Stiles bolted upright, holding the book carefully in his hands as he tried to make sense of the swirls of ink that covered the front page. He waited, his eyes twinkling in anticipation. Slowly the ink formed tangible letters- none that were english of course. He rushed towards his desk, anxiously clearing everything off it before reaching out to turn on his laptop with one hand.

His archaic latin wasn't that polished, but he'd been picking it up.

His lips pursed and he formed what he thought were tangible words, his fingers trembled with anxiety. This was real. Stiles fricking Stilinski was in the possession of a magical-hogwarts-esk book! He swallowed the lump in his throat and gently spoke the words before him.

_"Apollodorus Pseudo Liber…"_

He read quietly, tracing the words with his fingertips. His brows furrowed slightly as he processed the words.

"The book of Apollodorus Pseudo…" He quickly typed the words into his specialised mythological search engine. Stiles run his fingers through his hair as he scanned the pages. "Its a mythological compendium…" He murmured in utter awe.

I mean sure, Stiles has seen werewolves, Kanimas, witches, druids… But this? This was real magic! An actual book of magic! He grinned like an idiot, leaning back and resting his hands on the back of his head, laughing breathlessly.

"Oh my god…"

He flailed and bolted up once more, Stiles was fairly certain that he wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight.

He placed his hands on the book, opening it. He arched a brow as he was met with blank pages once more. It seemed the book only revealed itself when someone was holding it? So Stiles kept his hands on it, flicking through the pages patiently. He scrutinised the first page and let out a soft breath as he saw the familiar swirl of black ink. He let out a sigh of relief and leaned in towards the pages.

_"Pereunt quos videre non possunt, nec sciunt quod latet veritas dicetur."_

He murmured quietly as his eyes flickered to his computer screen. Stiles bit his lip and glanced back down at the book. He was wary of letting the book go, he couldn't guarantee the book would… "Awaken" again, for lack of better terms.

He shifted and cleared his throat. "Those are... and do not know, cannot.. the truth that lies… pages?" He translated what he could, frowning before piecing the missing words, mulling over the possibilities. His whisky eyes gleamed slightly as he came upon a rational translation.

"Those whom are lost and do not know, cannot see the truth within the pages…" His eyes flickered to the swirl of ink below it as he made out the letters.

_"Quos intercidunt Scire veritáte, iter illis tribuat nobis,"_

Stiles chewed the inside of his lip gently as his brows furrowed in concentration. He let the words roll on his tongue as he deciphered them, taking his time to analyse the phrases word for word. "To those whom are lost but know, then onto them we shall light the path of truth.."

 _"Et hereditabunt hi, quos ad veritatem, quod dabit tibi ad perficiendum.._ "

"Ugh…" Stiles groaned as he struggled with the sentence. He shut his eyes and focused, willing himself to concentrate. Stiles gasped softly, his fingers tingling as his eyes fluttered open. He glanced down at the pages with wide eyes, "And to those who possess the truth, we shall bestow the means to completion."

Stiles stared in awe at the pages before him. Stiles hadn't just deciphered the last sentence.. He found that he didn't have to.

He simply _knew._

It was the strangest thing… Even with adderall, Stiles had never had such clarity. His mind was entirely focused, clear and alert. The page swirled with more ink and Stiles read them clearly, as though he'd spent his whole life reading archaic latin. He murmured the words that followed, curious and yet inadvertently cautious.

_"…Feed thy life and brace your strength,_

_Speak your name and make your claim_

_right or wrong shall be revealed,_

_One's true spark will light the day."_

A swirl of light erupted from the pages and Stiles felt a gentle but unrelenting tug from the book. Stiles swallowed thickly, beads of sweat forming on his neck as he spoke.

" _Genim Stilnski…_ "

The swirling light exploded from the diary, flooding the room in an intense light as the pages flipped of their own accord. Words of ink and silver came forth beneath his fingers before his entire world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Whelp, here's chapter 4! Look out for foreshadowing! The chapter is a little shorter than usual, but the research behind writing this was quite time consuming! I know there wasn't much character-character scenes but Stiles was giving Scott the cold shoulder, hence why he couldn't be bothered anymore.


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles groaned loudly, shifting awkwardly before wincing when his head hit the foot of his bed. The disheveled teen blinked a few times, his eyes squinting open to glance at the offending object. A sluggish hand reached up, fisting a handful of sheets before weakly pulling himself up.

"What the fuck…" He cursed and his eyes blearily wandered around his room. The reason he felt like he'd been drowning in alcohol and was facing the aftermath of a hangover lay flat, looking completely innocent and perky on his desk. Stiles' eyes narrowed at the offending diary before he caught the blinking red lights that rested beside it.

"Shit! Fuck! Shit! NoNoNoNo!" He cursed roughly as he scrambled up from his position on the floor. He was going to be late for class! For Harris' chemistry class no less! He practically dove into the shower, warm water poured over his pale flesh as he got about washing himself. It was common knowledge that Mr. Harris, Beacon high's chemistry teacher loathed Stiles, never wasting an opportunity to pick on him or single him out in front of his peers. The petty man can't seem to get over being mistakenly arrested by Sheriff Stilinski- and to make it worse, Stiles was one of the brightest students in his class, maintaining a consistent A despite the man's constant attempts to fail him.

Stiles zoomed out of the shower, his hair damp and messy. He pulled on a clean pair of underwear before throwing on whatever was readily available, which luckily for him, happened to be some slick black jean, converse shoes and a hunter green jumper. Stiles slid down the stairs and ran straight past the kitchen after picking his bag off the floor. He sprinted to the car, spinning on his heels and rushing right back into the house. He dove for the counter and filled his flask with coffee before turning around and darting towards his precious jeep.

His wheels screeched as he reversed out of his drive way and sped off towards beacon high.

* * *

Stiles huffed as he came to a skidding halt just outside the chemistry class, his eyes wide in alarm as he glanced around the room.

"Oh thank god…" he panted. "He's not here yet.." The teen laughed breathlessly and ran his fingers through his dishevelled chestnut hair. Stiles blinked, heat climbing up his neck and flushing his cheeks as he noticed the looks his classmates were giving him. Stiles straightened and awkwardly cleared his throat.

If Stiles had an ounce of confidence, he'd have realised that the shocked faces of his classmates weren't due to his dramatic entrance. Stiles looked different… Albeit, it wasn't intentional, but he was dressed well enough to receive a glance over from Lydia. The tousled hair, the whisky twinkle in his eye and the faint glow of his pale skin from the light sheen of perspiration. Stiles certainly looked like a hot mess.

Stiles' gaze flickered over the class, he figured they'd be taking their newly assigned seats. Stiles exhaled a brief sigh of relief. Scott was paired with Lydia, who preferred to sit at the back of the room. Allison was paired with a nice quite girl, Louise was it? Erica was stuck with Boyd, not that she'd ever mind being with the large brooding teen. Isaac was with Jackson, there wasn't much to say about that- they seemed to get on quite well. With all the supernaturally aware personnel affiliated with the hale pack already partnered, Stiles found his shoulders relaxing. He smiles wryly as he made his way towards Danny, Jackson's best buddy and his new chemistry partner.

"Heeeeeey Danny," He drawled with a grin. The lacrosse goalie rolled his eyes but he didn't hide the small smile that played on his lips.

"Just made it to class, Stiles? Partying too hard?" He replied dryly, glancing towards Stiles as he set his bag on the floor and took a seat.

"Naw, I've been catching up on school work actually." Stiles tilted his head when Danny responded with with a scoffing snort.

"Yeah right, I know the 'group' met up yesterday." Stiles quirked a brow as Danny made parenthesis with his index fingers.

"Wha- Oh…" Stiles glanced back, fully aware that the werewolves could hear every word they were saying and judging by the looks he was getting from all 5 wolves? Yup, they were listening. Jackson looked particularly annoyed. Stiles being Stiles, took full advantage of the situation and smiled, showing Jackson one of his little birdies. He smirked when he saw what could definitely be considered a snarl, the tiniest hint of fang. As he turned back around, Danny had his brow raised in an irritable manner. Stiles blinked innocently, clasping his hands together in a mocking manner.

"What? You know I get uncontrollable spasms in my fingers whenever I see a douche, Danny."

"It must be on overdrive when you see a reflection." The hacker quipped back effortlessly, which only caused Stile to snicker.

"You know it Danny boy, you know it."

Stiles grinned and Danny smirked. Stiles found himself spending more time with Danny recently, particularly since the kanima incident with Jackson. He and Stiles found themselves drifting closer together whilst the pack solidified their bonds and spent their time learning and training to control their powers. He was expected to be at those pack gatherings whenever they required something from him. And of course, after 2 weeks of ignoring him, it came as no surprise that they suddenly started hounding him when the alpha pack was sniffed out. Stiles humoured them at first, but he'd eventually had enough of it, instead making excuses and decidedly spending more time to himself.

Mr. Harris came into class a few minutes later and immediately made an underhanded comment at Stiles before assigning them their task. Double chemistry… Yay! Stiles groaned softly and got to work. He and Danny made a good team, they were both smart, not to mention they got on marvellously. And as it turns out, Danny had a sense of humour and Stiles wasn't as annoying as Danny had previously thought.

Stiles sighed, glancing at his lab-partner out of the corner of his eye before speaking.

"You know, Danny… I was serious about what I said earlier, I haven't really been hanging around the 'group'" he made quotation marks with his fingers when he said groups before continuing. "I've been busy… And they…" He paused as he chose his words carefully, knowing the others could hear him. "I don't really need to be there, you know?"

Danny remained quiet after that, working quietly for a few minutes before murmuring back quietly.

"Yeah, I know..."

* * *

The rest of the chemistry passed by uneventfully, he and Danny had the occasional banter and thankfully, nothing exploded. The two teens had sat next to each other for maths and english. Stiles smiled to himself as he listened to the soothing voice of Ms. Blake, the new english teacher. And before they knew it, it was lunch.

Stiles slung his backpack over his shoulder and stretched outwards, letting out a soft sigh as he felt a knot click in his neck. He blinked as he felt an arm drape over his shoulder, turning to his left he was surprised to see Danny glancing down at him with a contemplative expression.

"Soooo, instead of hiding out somewhere, how about you have lunch with me and my buddies?" Stiles blinked, coughing into his hand awkwardly.

"What are you talking about Danny? I don't hide ou-"

"Oh yeah? Is that why Becky Fergison saw you creeping around school, tip toeing like you were hiding from someone?"

Stiles physically flinched. He looked up and saw the scowl on Scott's face from across the room. Stiles awkwardly raised a hand and gave a small wave , accompanied by a cheesy smile. If he wasn't in it deep enough, Danny just had to push him down deeper, not quite done exposing him just yet. He leaned in, murmuring with his back to the others as they took their time to leave, clearly interested in what was being said. Before Stiles could pipe up, Danny cut him off- which honestly, he deserved a medal for. Cutting Stiles off was quite the feat.

"Look, whatever's happened between you, Scott and the others isn't really any of my business- but rather than sitting alone in the Janitors closet or lurking in the corners of the library, just come sit with me." He paused a moment, dark eyes glancing into whisky brown eyes expectantly.

"We're friends, right?"

Stiles bit his lip briefly, his eyes glancing sidewards. It was now or never, this would cause the rift he needed. His whisky eyes flickered up to Danny's face as he made a decision. Stiles gave the lacrosse goalie a nod and flashed him a stupid grin.

"Alright Danny…" He smirked, gaining confidence and gesturing towards the door with a flourishing bow. "Lead the way, oh lord of the hacking."

Danny punched him in the arm as he pulled back and Stiles gasped, wincing and holding his arm.

"Hey! I was making reference to that time you emptied your guts after you ate that ba- Ow!"

The teen huffed and threw a paperclip at the goalie's head, scowling behind him. The taller teen turned and smirked. "Coming Stiles?"

Stiles couldn't help but grin back, trotting up beside Danny and smacking his hand onto the taller teen's back.

"Does this mean I am attractive to gay guys?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hey guys! Here's a quick new chapter, I'd like to thank a special someone for reviewing, reading, following and favouriting. Let me know what you guys think of chapter cinqo! Some more character interactions! A slight change in Stiles' persona and a blossoming friendships? Now that his intentions are clear, lets see how the pack handles it.


	6. Chapter 6

Lunch on monday went nothing short of marvellously. Turns out some of Danny's friends were pretty cool- he should have expected that a handful of people who befriended the best hacker in town would be into online gaming. Before he knew it, Danny rolled his eyes and got into a quiet conversation with the other lacrosse players whilst Stiles and 3 of Danny's other friends got into a heated debate about online gaming.

Stiles breathed out, laughing quietly as he slowly shook his head and leaned back.

"Holy smokes, so I am not the only person in an online community that battles mythical creatures?" He was met with incredulous looks.

"Did you really think you were the only one in this town who played dungeons and dragons?"

"…Um…" Stiles rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Yes?"

The girl, Lisa, turned to Danny and gave a slow nod. "You were right Danny, he really is an idiot." Stiles gaped and spazzed incredulously .

"Hey!" He sputtered indignantly, and the group followed shortly by Stiles erupted into a fit of laughter.

Stiles caught Danny's eye and a gentle smile played on his lips, expressing his gratitude towards the taller teen. Danny smiled back and gave Stiles a wink, to which the awkward teen blushed lightly and grinned at the goalie. He turned back to Lisa and resumed their discussion, arguing about the best way in which to defeat a simultaneous attack from werewolves and vampires. Danny watched him a moment, amusement glimmering in his dark eyes. Who would have thought things would turn out this way?

Stiles was pulled out of his conversation with Lisa by the ringing bell. The teen groaned and made sure to take his new found friend's numbers. He and the soon to be members of his heroic online party will take the dungeon and dragons world by storm!

Or so he thought…

* * *

Several classes later and the bell finally rang. Stiles glanced down at his phone. From the looks of things, his wolfbane plants wouldn't be delivered until tomorrow.

He sighed softly and leaned down, placing his books in his bag before slinging it over his shoulder. He glanced around the class, there was no one left in the AP physics class- well, except Lydia and Erica. Stiles gave the two a grin and a casual salute before making his way out. Lydia raised a brow- typical really, and Erica? She scoffed at him.

Stiles made a quick exit, stopping by his locker to pick up a few things. He sent a text to Danny, wondering what he was up to before sliding his phone back into his pocket. As he turned, he came face to face with 3 familiar wolves.

"Heyyy guys, what's up?" Stiles greeted the three uncertainly. He shifted his gaze briefly before glancing between them. "Nothing?" Stiles turned and made a move to leave. "Good, because I have -so- much to do today, so I am just going to.." He was cut off by Jackson stepping in his way, scowling and crossing his arms over his chest in a way that said he wasn't letting him go anywhere.

Stiles swallowed thickly and brought his hands up defensively before finishing his sentence uncertainly. "Yeah... I got this. I am just going to stay right here."

Stiles was met with blank stares from all 3 boys. He glanced between them rapidly, the silence making him nervous- something the wolves likely smelt. He breathed in through his nose, clearing his mind and shifting his bag from one shoulder to the other to distract himself. "So…" but he was met with silence once again. Time to try a different approach. He cleared his throat before he spoke.

"Guys, now I know I am pretty damn nice to look at, but could you say something? The silence is literally stifling me. To death." He waved his hands in front of their faces. "Helloooo? Can you not speak? Guys-"

Stiles panicked when they moved in. He tried to shift away, but they were faster. They wordlessly surrounded him. Scott and Isaac grabbed his forearms and hefted him off the ground, causing Stiles to flail indignantly. "Hey! Hey! What the heck are you guys doing?!"

Jackson elbowed him lightly in the stomach, "Shut up, Stilinski."

Stiles' eyes widened and he gave a light "oomph" before his most powerful defence kicked in, and he opened his mouth. "Did you guys even consider asking nicely?" He muttered, huffing. They were acting strange. What the fuck was wrong with these three idiots? And he was really getting sick of the man handling.

"Hey! I am asking you guys a question!" He rolled his eyes and waved his hands in patronising manner before deepening his voice. "Oh I am sorry, of course you didn't consider asking. You're werewolves, you just do what you want with poor human Stile-"

He was stopped mid rambling when his back hit the locker room. wall He had no time to think of another sarcastic retort. The wolves were on him again. They were moving so fast, almost in a frenzy. He was really starting to panic, they only ever acted this way when it was a full moon- and Stiles was pretty sure it was still a good week before then.

Stiles struggled when he felt their hands on him, pinning him against the wall. Alarm bells rang through his mind and his wide whisky eyes flickered between them, resting on Scott in a desperate attempt to get his friend to explain what was going on. Stiles finally found his voice and he croaked out cautiously.

"W-what are you guys doing?"

The three teen wolves completely ignored him, their eyes glowed dangerously as their faces neared his neck. Stiles whimpered as they drew closer. He could hear them sniffing and growling, as though he was some sort of snack- a prized chew toy. Worst of all was the crushing silence. It weighed heavily on Stiles and it was doing nothing to stifle down his anxiety. He struggled against their hold without avail and his gaze flickered between the three in terror before one finally spoke.

"You smell different…" The one who spoke was Jackson. Well, he technically snarled, but that wasn't surprised Stiles. What _did_ shock Stiles, was the fact the teen started nudging the crook of Stiles' neck with his nose. Stiles' could do nothing but stare in horror at the blond co-captain, before his eyes flickered to the next one who spoke.

"I told you he smelt different."

Stiles tried to turn to Isaac, he wanted to reason with him but his words were muffled by a pained cry that erupted from his own throat. It seems Jackson didn't like that Stiles moved, the lacrosse captain grabbed his chin roughly, pinning the side of his face against the wall. Stiles whimpered and tried to kick at the teens, but they pushed there knees into his legs, completely immobilising him.

"Better…"

It was Scott. So much for all the time he'd saved him. Stiles was terrified out of his mind, pinned against a wall by three wolves and his best friend had nothing more to say than that he smelt better. Talk about a fucking waste of space. How could Scott do this? Was this punishment? Because Stiles' had been ignoring him? Stiles shut his eyes as anger and betrayal swelled in his chest. He did nothing wrong! If anything he was giving Scott a taste of his own medicine.

Stiles was pulled out of his thoughts when he felt their heavy breaths on his neck. Goosebumps broke out on his skin and he fought his body's urge to quake and tremble. The headstrong sarcastic teen swallowed difficultly and shut his eyes, willing himself to calm down. This was a joke. It had to be. They were just getting back at him for not coming to pack meetings and ignoring them.

"G-guys, this isn't funny anymore…" Stiles tried to reason again. His eyes blinked open and he tried to stare at the others out of the corner of his eye. It was harder than one would think with Jackson still holding Stiles' chin to expose his neck.

The air seemed to get endlessly heavy in the silence that followed. Seconds passed before something happened. Scott finally moved, he seemed to be blinking out of a daze, when his vision cleared all he did was stare at Stiles. He muttered something to the other two wolves before pulling back. Seconds later Isaac did the same, but he still stood awfully close. Far too close for Stiles' comfort.

Stiles exhaled, breathing heavy with relief. He knew he must have seemed pathetic to the wolves. So easy to read and weak. But for all his weaknesses he had at least managed to get them off of him.

There was no shame in surviving to live another day and escaping bodily harm.

Stiles' whisky orbs rested on Jackson's face, he was the only one who didn't pull back. Time seemed to slow when he did something Stiles' mind could barely comprehend.

He leaned in and actually licked up the side of Stiles' neck.

Stiles could feel the rough tip of Jackson's tongue run up his neck, slowly, savouring his taste before lingering over the racing pulse in the human's neck. In that moment, Stiles seemed to disconnect from the world around him. He felt a throb in his chest and before he could understand what it was, something inside him snapped.

He struggled against Jackson's hold. He felt a swell of power in the pit of his stomach, his muscles felt as though they'd been flooded with energy and he somehow managed to free his leg. And when he noticed, he did the only thing that came to mind.

He mustered as much force into his legs before bringing his knee right up into Jackson's groin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Here we go! Chapter 6! What did you guys think? What do you think is wrong with the guys? Have you picked up on the clues? ;)


	7. Chapter 7

Stiles felt the thrumming of energy coursing through his veins as Jackson doubled over, the wolf was cursing and snarling. Stiles instinctively put distance between them, leaping across the bench to stand by the door.

He thrust his hands into his pockets, grabbing a handful of powder before aiming the fisted hands at the wolves. His eyes were wide, adrenalin coursing through his veins. Luckily, Stiles' stunt had shocked the wolves long enough for him to get a second to react. A bead of sweat rolled down his neck as he gulped anxiously. The air seemed so thick with tension, Jackson cursing and snarling and Scott and Isaac's following his every move with intensely heated glimmer in their eyes. Stiles had little time to contemplate further before Jackson dashed forward.

"What the fuck Stilinski!" Jackson roared, swiping the bench between them across the locker room. Stiles didn't miss a beat, daring to step forward with his eyes bright with rage.

"S _eriously_?! You _licked_ me Jackson. You fucking licked me! Wet tongue, slurp, slither and all! If anyone has a right to be violently pissed off its me!" Stiles snapped back.

Scott and Isaac glanced between one another as Jackson's mouth snapped shut, the teen unable to retort. Of course, Jackson being Jackson, maintained his disdainful snarl.

Stiles' glare flicked over to the other two.

"And you two are just as guilty! Do you think you can just grab me and sniff me like some.. some… ribeye steak?!" Stiles suppressed the urge to flail. " _Stiles_ is not a chew toy! It might not mean anything to you three anymore, but I am a fricking human! Not a bone to be thrown between wolves!" Stiles' whisky coloured eyes rested on Scott and the intensity of his glare softened slightly, instead tinged with betrayal.

"I could expect this from Jackson, Isaac if he was told to, but you Scott? I didn't expect it from you." he stifled the feeling in his heart, suppressing the ache that seemed to spread across his chest.

Stiles glanced between the three expectantly, waiting for something. Hopefully, some sort of explanation.

Silence.

After all this they still had nothing to say? Not even an apology. Stiles refused to take it silently, if they wanted to joust- then so be it. His back straightened and he drew on the thrumming power coursing throughout him.

"Fine." Stiles said sharply, exhaling softly as his whisky eyes sparked with energy.

"If that's how you want to play it-" instantly, the wolves snapped out of their chastised silence, they could feel it, whatever Stiles was about to do.

Stiles thrust his hands outwards, releasing a substantial amount of energy into the powder in his hands. The wolves leaped backwards, trying to avoid the thick puff of black powder that settled around them, but it was to no avail. Each time they tried a blue barrier would thrust their bodies forward.

The alarm in their eyes was evident. They panicked, they tried to dash forward, but again, the blue barrier rebounded them back.

They all stared wide eyed at Stiles, as though seeing him in a new light. Stiles met their looks with a sigh. The awkward teen reached up, running his fingers through his short auburn hair before speaking.

"Its nothing special, idiots. Its just mountain ash."

The wolves instinctively glanced down and true enough, there was a thin circle around the werewolves, locking them within the sphere Stiles had conjured.

"How did you do that, Stiles?" Isaac was the one to ask, the surprise clear on his face. Stiles rolled his eyes before replying.

"It's not that hard, I used my spark to manipulate the ash to drift and form a circle around you." He looked at them flatly when they stared with gaping mouths.

"What do you think I do in my spare time? Or when I ask Deaton for a word in private?" He shrugged lightly and sat with his legs crossed on a nearby bench. He folded his hands in his lap, ignoring the three pairs of eyes following his every move. When they gave no answer, Stiles elaborated.

"Its the Spark. Remember that? Deaton said everyone has one? Depending on how much you have and how you train with it, it can be used to cast magic." He paused, grinning. "And I've been practicing to do this since the rave incident with Jackson, when I first felt my spark." Stiles gazed down at his open hands as he spoke, the incident so clear in his mind it felt as though it was yesterday.

"So you're a druid now?" It was Scott who asked that. Of course it was. Stiles looked up at Scott, raising a brow before answering.

"No Scott." Stiles sighed softly, typical of Scott to ask something like that. As if one could wake up overnight and suddenly be a druid. "I am not a druid, I'd have known since I was a child- with the whole affinity to nature thing." he waved his hands dismissively as he met his best friend's gaze. "I am human, with enough spark to shape mountain ash. It's a very low level spell, you know." He raised a finger to make a point, the wolves seemed captivated by his words, hanging on every breath.

"But even the simplest of spells can be useful." He said solemnly.

Stiles stood up, wiping his palms on his jeans as he glanced down at the floor. "See, now that you're immobilised, there's nothing stoping me from getting wolfsbane or lycan toxic plants and taking my time poisoning or shooting you."

Stiles didn't need to say anything more, the wolves knew what kind of damage something like that could so. They listened, their senses heightened, watching and analysing Stiles' every move. They could smell the mild anxiety, they could hear the truth behind his words, they could see the moisture forming on his neck, tantalisingly trickling a thin bead of sweat down the side of naval.

If Stiles wanted them to know he could kill them. He wanted them to understand that as fragile as he may be, he wasn't without his own bag of tricks.

What none of the teens realised was that, whilst it was true that conjuring a sphere of ash is simple, what Stiles had done? That wasn't quite so simple. Forming an ash barrier is a basic technique that repels a variety of creatures, it's a basic defensive spell that even the most average novice could do given enough spark. The size of the circle and thickness of the barrier is determined by the conjurer's strength. However, none present had realised that it was not what Stiles had cast, not even Stiles himself. Normal magic users would have failed to conjure a sphere that wasn't around the caster. A protective sphere is something that can only be cast around the conjurer, with the user being at the very centre of the sphere. By releasing an expanse of energy, the ash would fall in place around them to form a sphere. What Stiles did? Was not that. He had unknowingly cast something far more complicated. He was able to manipulate the ash to form elsewhere, using either telekinetic magic or something akin to aeromancy.

Minutes passed in a tense silence before Stiles held the bridge of his nose and leaned back, speaking clearly.

"Look, I don't want to have to do this and I am not threatening you. All I want is an explanation, alright?" Stiles glanced between them expectantly before he saw Isaac give a defeated sigh. The tall blond's blue eyes stared at him intently before he spoke.

"We want you back Stiles. We haven't seen you in so long." The teen ran his thumb over his lip nervously, averting his gaze briefly before speaking again. "You don't smell like pack anymore, you smell… Different. I like i-" he corrected himself, "We all like it. And we want you back."

"Bullshit." Jackson snapped irritably, cutting Isaac off. Jackson growled and swiped a claw across the blue barrier. "Your smell pisses me off, it makes me growl- I want to howl and sink my teeth into you."

Stiles blinked, utterly stunned. He sat there with his mouth gaping and his whisky eyes wide in shock at Jackson's words.

"W-why?" Stiles asked, glancing between them. "I-is it the new shampoo I use?" Stiles tentatively leaned closer to his shoulder and sniffed himself. He smelt exactly the same.

"Stiles!" It was Scott who snapped him out of it. "Whatever you did! It's driving us crazy! Make it stop!"

Stiles, for the second time today, had his mouth hanging open. He bristled irritably, "What the hell! I didn't do anything!" He retorted. "You guys should show some bloody self control!"

The teens remained silent for a good few minutes, each contemplating something of their own- all the while the wolves began to _literally_ pant with frustration. Stiles, completely oblivious stood and paced around, holding his chin in his hands. After a few seconds of pacing, he hit his fist into an open palm.

"So I am like the fire hydrant every dog wants to piss on?" The wolves face palmed.

Jackson replied, growling lowly. "For lack of better comparison, yes."

Scott's golden eyes focused on him before he spoke. "Stiles, when you don't smell like pack, it's like… " he paused, his eyes narrowing at Stiles. "Weird, I am anxious, I am irritable. All I want to do is scent you and mark you as pack."

Stiles raised a hand and shut his eyes. "Pack? So you joined their pack? Scott after all that happened. After all we've done so you don't have to be in Derek's pack, you decided to join him?" Stiles asked incredulously.

Scott dropped his gaze and his jaw clenched as it often did when he was upset or troubled. Stiles would know. They've been best friends for so long. The silence was unnerving him, and seeing Scott struggling had him wanting for the beta to talk more so than ever.

"Scott?" Stiles asked tentatively.

"I don't know! Okay!?" Stiles was shocked by Scott's sudden outburst, wide blinking amber eyes stared ahead in baffled confusion. Luckily, he didn't have to say anything as Scott pressed on.

"Even if I am not in Derek's pack! It doesn't matter! We still need to work together if we're going to protect everyone! I can't do it on my own! Werewolves, Kanimas, hunters! Allison isn't even with us anymore and Lydia doesn't believe she can trust us! And yo-"

"And I am just human, right?" Stiles smiled bitterly as he contemplated Scott's words. His chest throbbed painfully and the realisation of it all was starting to sink in. Was this something akin to wolf mourning? Not wanting to lose a member of the pack? There was a piece of this puzzle missing and he couldn't quite place it. They weren't like this before, its been weeks since he started distancing himself from them. His eyes widened, this all started when he first opened the diary.

Too preoccupied in his musings, Stiles didn't notice the dark looming figure that approached from behind. But he became all to aware when a throaty voice growled in his ear.

"Your scent brings out the instinct of being under the full moon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: And here's chapter 7! Now, has anyone got an idea of what Stiles is yet? Or what his power is? And I'd like to say, reviews inspire me and help shape my fics. So if you've got ideas, or feedback on aspects of it- let me know. You might find yourself pleasantly surprised in the coming chapters. Last thing- guess who's arrived! :P


	8. Chapter 8

Stiles felt powerful clawed fingers grab his chin. He felt the man's other hand snake around his waist, pulling him roughly into a hard body. Stiles tried to remain calm, breathing deeply to stifle the panic that swelled within him. He swallowed a breath and remained perfectly still.

Whoever was behind him put his mouth to Stiles' neck, inhaling deeply. Stiles felt the man's pleased growl reverberating against his back.

"You smell absolutely _ravishing_ my dear Stiles, I wonder what concoction you thought up this time."

A shudder escaped Stiles. The terrified teen shut his eyes tightly, he could hear the other wolves growling and snapping their jaws angrily. Stiles stifled the urge to go into a full blown panic attack when he felt a wet tongue trail up his chin. The man's tongue lingered, lapping at the flesh, running across his jaw before his assailant's lips rested against his ear, his whispers lingering in the air between them.

"Or is this all for my beloved nephew?"

Peter. He should have known. Stiles' whisky brown eyes snapped open and he inhaled deeply. A slight relief washing over him. There was no use panicking. In a situation like this involving Peter, it was always best to remain calm. Stiles distracted himself from the close proximity of their bodies, from Peter's laboured breath and the less than gentle nips at his neck.

"Peter, what are you doing?" He finally managed, struggling as best as he could against the hold the older man had on him. He stilled immediately when he felt and heard the disapproving growl that left the older werewolf's lips.

"I think what I am doing is painfully obvious, Stiles." His voice was husky and smooth as he rubbed the side of his face against Stiles' hair.

"You know, this is definitely a form of sexual harassment, and at your age I am pretty sure I could press charges against molestati- AHHH!" His words were cut off when he felt Peter's teeth sink into the flesh of his neck. Stiles struggled violently, kicking and screaming before a hand covered his mouth. Stiles' eyes were wide and he looked towards the other wolves! And to his utmost horror, they were looking just as predatory- it wasn't out of fear or concern for him.

It was _envy._

Stiles could see it in their eyes. By the way they paced, their gaze locked on him. He could see the way their glowing eyes flickered greedily between him, and viciously towards Peter. Was that why they showed so much interest in him this morning? Why they watched him? Because of his _smell_?

"Shh-Shh-Shh." He heard Peter croon, a bruise already forming where the man had bit him, right on the crook of his neck.

"We don't want anyone to stumble in on this now do we?" He purred, pressing Stiles closer to him, slowly grinding his form over the teen's body.

"I've always found you fascinating, Stiles." He pressed on, whispering velvetly into his ear. "Since you rejected the bite you've always managed to surprise me." He pause, taking a moment to inhale deeply. "But you've really outdone yourself this time." He purred, nuzzling the wound on his neck. "Whatever concoction you created, truly…" He growled deep in his throat as he thrust what was now an obvious bulge into Stiles' lower back. "I am afraid my actions are beyond my self control." A clawed hand slipped under the front of his shirt, lightly trailing angry red marks up his torso.

Stiles whimpered, tears stinging his eyes as he squeezed them shut once again. He clenched his hands into fists to force the tears away, to forget the numbing pain and the danger of the situation. For fuck's sake! Peter bloody Hale was practically dry _humping_ him! He began panting, losing control over himself as he felt the onset of a panic attack.

Peter growled. "You're lucky it was me and the pups. If it was Derek, who's primal emotion is anger, you may very well have triggered a mass murder." Peter's hand remained clamped over his mouth whilst the other trailed claws over his torso, gently enough not to break skin, but deep enough to leave angry trails in the claw's wake.

"So you're going to have to stop trying to get at my beloved nephew with underhanded tricks, like potions." Stiles could sense the man bristle behind him, fighting the urge to shift. "It makes me a little jealous." He growled, his claws pressing a little deeper into the flesh of his chest. Peter leaned in again, his breath lingering over Stiles' ear.

"Because when you play with fire, dear Stiles, you get burnt."

Stiles' hands rested on Peter's arms. The awkward teen gently rubbed the older man's arms, whining softly and gently moving against Peter's thrusts.

Peter was stunned, but only momentarily. He held his breath as the teen in his arms returned his affections. He growled loudly, tilting his head back as he pulled Stiles closer. The werewolf's hold over hims shifted, his hands moving down to grasp at the boy's hips. Stiles took a deep breath through his mouth and he moaned. He turned slowly in Peter's arms, whisky eyes gazing up at electric blue. Stiles pushed up against Peter and let his forehead rest on the older wolf's shoulder.

"You're right Peter…" The werewolf glanced down, even through the primal urge to mark the boy, a nagging instinct kept him from devouring the boy where he stood. This was quite strange. Peter was about control. Even when he relinquishes his hold over his primal urges, he was never out of control. And yet in the presence of this mere _boy_ he struggled to completely discipline his wolf. He'd had years of practice- years of clinging and mastering his anchor.

A slight change in Stiles' heart rate had the wolf listening quietly. Hanging on Stiles' every word, his grip on the teenager loosening. The teen was already distancing himself from them, now? With the Scott, Isaac, Jackson and now him forcing him to carry their pack's scent? The Peter's electric blue eyes stilled whilst his mind clashed with the wolf. The boy had his uses, he couldn't deny that. There was something about him that always brought innovation and spontaneity to their plans.

"When you play with fire, you get burnt."

Peter's brow furrowed as he listened, that sounded far rougher than he'd expected. The boy felt completely submissive in his arms, every scent, every posture. Wh-

" _Intus incaendium."_

Peter howled, throwing Stiles backwards with all his might as he felt his chest erupt into flames. The searing heat spread like wildfire, catching every fabric on fire as his world was assaulted by blinding red and yellow. Water. He needed water. Peter dashed towards the showers, his claws slashing at the pipe and with a flooding sense of relief, cold water gushed out over him, extinguishing the flame. He didn't go unscathed, his hair was in a questionable state, his clothes were practically incinerated and even his flesh was blotch and red. The werewolf growled menacingly, this will take at least a few days to fully heal.

He caught the horrified gaze of Scott and the others. Peter's eyes, electric blue and swimming with rage, flittered over to where Stiles was thrown.

...

Stiles was gone.

* * *

Stiles stumbled out of the locker room, sprinting with all his might towards the car park. He had no idea how he'd known to do that. One thing he did know. Since he had opened that book, since he'd ignited his spark all the wolves had started acting strange- insane if not borderline psychotic. He had to find a way to stop it.

Running away wouldn't do anything. There were werewolves everywhere! He would never be safe! And if it did this to werewolves, what about other creatures? He had to see Deaton.

"What if it did something to Deaton too?!"

His eyes burnt with unshed tears as he slammed the door of his jeep shut. He tossed his bag carelessly and stuck the key in the ignition. He had to get away from here. Stiles reversed out of the car park, he slammed his foot down on the pedal and his jeep roared to life. As the blue automobile zoomed past, Stiles caught sight of an enraged Peter at the entrance of the school.

Fuck.

Stiles didn't look back, one look at the werewolf's burnt form was enough for him to realise his life was in mortal danger. If Peter got hold of him, he was dead.

* * *

Stiles thanked every deity he could recall that his father wasn't home. He'd parked his car in the driveway and rushed into his house, no longer caring that he had tear stains down his cheek.

He'd rushed up the stairs, he stopped panting when his eyes fell upon the book the started all of this. He sniffed, wiping his eyes with his sleeves.

He slowly made his way over, his breathing laboured as he cautiously reached down to pick it up. He held the leathery diary in his hands for a moment, swallowing thickly before he opened it.

He gasped as a wave of energy flooded out of the book. Whisky orbs stared in shock as the pages were completely filled with a foreign language he somehow managed to understand.

The words inscribed on the front were clear and left him shellshocked, he fell to his knees, eyes wide as gazed down at the pages that once held the name of the book and a spell to bind his name until he'd mastered his power. Instead it was replaced with something else, something the book had no way of knowing.

"Genim Stilinski, son of Claudia Stilinski..." His voice was hoarse when he next spoke, trembling with anxiety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: That's chapter 8! Please let me know what you think! Predictions? Requests? Many thanks again!


	9. Chapter 9

Stiles blinked as his gaze lingered on the pages before him. How had the book known his mother's name? Just what was it's true purpose?

The writing and script was all in a foreign language, it wasn't even archaic latin. It was something else entirely. Stiles trailed over the words, adrenalin pumping through his veins as his eyes lingered over the unknown words he was somehow able to decipher. Moments of silence passed before Stiles leaned back, running his slender fingers through his auburn hair. He was stunned, shocked with disbelief.

He wasn't human, he was a Naides. The child of a nymph. Stunned and trembling with excitement, he read on with the words lingering on his lips.

" _Being a Naides means you've acquired partial if not all the powers of one of nature's physical incarnations. The most common nymphs were those that govern the forces of nature, much like water or wind. They are a mysterious race, believed to have been created to preserve The Great Balance. As a result, they are spirits of neither good nor evil and will aid the side that is necessary to preserve or realign the afore mentioned balance_."

Stiles let the words sink in. How the hell had he not known? He wasn't like a druid that was in tune with nature- he embodied nature! He should have noticed. There had to have been some kind of indication. He shook his head, his eyes scanning the words again. He read over it a few times.

" _The abilities of a Naides depends entirely on their mother's heritage and powers. The inheritance and strength of the parents attribute to their abilities and spells. Nymphs and most naides are unable to use abilities beyond their natural embodiment. There have been cases in which half-blood Naides have inherited powers from both parents."_

Stiles swallowed, pondering over the words. His father was human, which meant that his powers were likely only to stem from his mother's affinity. But what was she? She couldn't be a water or earth Nymph, could she? Nymphs were generally unable to part from their embodiment, whether it be a stream, tree, mountain or forest. He paused, furrowing his brows. That left wind and fire. No… Water as well. If his mother was the embodiment of rain then she too could move so long as it was a region frequented by rain- which Beacon Hills certainly didn't have a shortage of.

His brows rose. He did cause Peter to spontaneously combust- but that wasn't something he willed. A nymph would simply create or will the flames into existence. What Stiles had used was a spell, magic that had definitely been cast. Stiles paused. What about mountain ash? He managed to move that? That wasn't a nymph like power- unless it was through the use of wind.

Stiles moaned softly, his head pulsed as his confusion escalated. How was this possible? There were so many options, so many questions he wanted answered. His whiskey brown eyes trailed over the page and he flicked through it, blinking when he found everything beyond the current page to be blank. He frowned and read on, his eyes lingering over the foreign words.

" _In order to reveal the depth and extent of your power, Naides Genim Stilinski, child of Claudia Stilinksi. You must decipher the layers of magic concealed within you."_

"How?" He asked uncertainly. "How do I uncover it? I don't even know what kind of Naides I am!"

Stiles sat for several minutes, gazing intently at the page before him. He waited and hoped for something to happen. He prayed the spell book would reveal what he wanted to know. But as the seconds ticked on, it became increasingly clear there wasn't going to be a simple answer.

A frustrated sigh left the teen's lips and he fell back onto his bed, sprawled out like s starfish. His whiskey brown eyes stared up at the ceiling, softening as his mind wandered to memories of his deceased mother.

All this time Stiles had thought he was human. His mother had seemed so human. He had never seen her do anything that would be considered magical. If this was true, what he knows to be truth wasn't possible. Claudia wasn't just a regular magic user. His mother -was- magic. A minor nature deity. A nymph. He swallowed difficultly and a shaky breath left his lips. It didn't make sense. Stiles rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands. She was supposed to be near immortal. She was magic! How…

How did she die?

Stiles shook his head as his mind barraged him with endless questions. He wasn't prepared for all of this. His entire world. Everything he new to be real was turned upside down. Plain, boring, ordinary Stiles was in fact a magical creature. His mother, who was supposedly a nymph of nature in some form or other succumbed to a non-magical death? An immortal creature dying of dementia? It wasn't possible. Something was wrong. His instincts commanded him to believe so.

He needed answers. He needed to find out what he could about his mother. He needed to speak to someone about this. Someone he could trust.

* * *

Hazy moonlight lingered on pale skin as a lone figure creeped towards the isolated building. A cool wisp of air left the teen's lips as he approached. Masked and coated in wolfsbane, Stiles slowly crept through the misty night. The auburn haired teen had parked his jeep a few miles away, leaving his precious jeep behind some bushes as he stalked towards Deaton's establishment. The wolves would recognise the sound of his engine, or worse… Whatever's out there would notice he was on his way.

Stiles stared at the building, glancing around the car park for any signs of cars, bikes or anything of the sort. He exhaled softly, there wasn't anyone besides Deaton here. He hunched his shoulders, crouching lower and creeping closer.

As he neared, he paused. Something didn't feel right. A cold shiver ran up his spine he heard, as he -felt- heavy footfall within the building. The sound of a gruff puff of air left him swallowing nervously. Stiles came to the realisation that this was likely a very bad idea… He resisted the urge to slap his palm against his forehead, "And this is why I should have called to schedule an appointment." He muttered silently.

He swallowed nervously and leaned up, slowly rising to peek in through the window. His whiskey eyes needed a moment to adjust to the darkness. His gaze traveled within the room. There he was, Deaton. The man seemed to be standing within what looked to be a barrier. Stiles' blood ran cold as the realisation hit him- it looked like the friendly neighbourhood vet already had a visitor.

Stiles watched the druid carefully. Deaton seemed calm for the most part, chanting what seemed to be a spell whilst light shimmered from his fingertips.

Stiles assumed everything would be alright, but as suddenly as the thought came, a sinking sense of doom swelled in the pit of his stomach. And he was about to find out why. Something had caused Deaton's eyes to widen. Stiles had never seen such an expression on the calm collected druid- slowly, the dark skinned vet turned and his eyes fixed on Stiles with such sincere concern.

His head pulsed painfully, something seemed to reach into the depth of his thoughts. Hazy at first, but Stiles was able to make out the druid's words clearly in his mind. "Stiles! Run!"

Stiles didn't need to hear it twice. He turned and he ran. The teen spared a glance over his shoulder only to see a large, ferocious red eyed werewolf crashing out the window. Stiles' eyes widened with shock- he'd never seen a fully wolfed out werewolf besides Peter and it was a sight that was still petrifying enough to render his limbs useless. He stumbled and fell, shuffling backwards as the towering beast moved towards him.

Dark fur, black as night rustled under it's powerful movements. The ground rumbled softly as it's large paws stomped towards him filled with intent. The large werewolf raked it's claws across the pavement as it slowly rose up on it's hind legs. The elongated snout, the long pointed fangs and the faint slurp of saliva was all too clear in Stiles' mind as it tilted it's head high and howled with all it's might.

A cold shiver ran up and down his spine as his terrorised form began to tremble. The sheer power behind the howl causing the area around them to reverberate. His hairs stood on end as he tried to scramble away.

Stiles' wide, petrified whiskey eyes focused entirely on the panting beast before him. The werewolf's gleaming red eyes stared right at him, but for one reason or another it was wary of approaching. It watched him, circling him, drawing in the air around it as it sniffed deeply with it's muzzle.

The teen's mind was racing. He needed to do something! With a slow trembling fingers, he reached into his pocket, swallowing thickly. His eyes never once leaving the wolf's penetrating gaze. Just as he got to his pocket, the wolf closed the gap between them, hovering over him- it's snarling muzzle inches from Stiles' face. It snarled viciously and with a snap of it's jaws, Stiles flinched. He froze in place, his eyes squeezed shut as he listened.

Hot, moist puffs of air left the wolf's mouth and fanned across his face. The teen stilled, in a single move, the wolf could leave him decapitated and torn to shred. A rough, hot tongue raked over the side of his face and Stiles whimpered, squeezing his eyes tightly.

Through the wolf's loud breath he heard the faint sound of footsteps and Stiles prayed it was Deaton. One eye fluttered open uncertainly as he saw the wolf turn to the druid, Stiles reached into his pocket and grabbed some ash. He threw it up into the air and darted back out of the dense black fog before it swept around him. The smoke cleared and the ash left a thin circle around the wolf.

Stiles breathed heavy, letting out a breath he didn't even realise he was holding in. The world became a blur as Deaton rushed to his side, a hand on his shoulder.

"Stiles! Stiles!" The teen heard the Druid speak, but his mind was elsewhere. He felt his shoulders shaking and eventually he blinked stupidly, trying to focus his gaze on Deaton. He tried to speak but his throat was so dry it hurt, he swallowed and shut his eyes again-trying to stifle the terror in his trembling body.

Whiskey eyes focused on the druid's face and he blinked. "D-Deaton?" He asked uncertainly. The druid was incanting what he assumed was their language of power. Stiles felt himself wrapped in warmth, his mind began clearing and his vision focused on the large wolf in front of him.

The beast seemed to still as it watched them. He heard the crunching of bones, the shifting of skin. Fur regressed and limbs shrunk and conjoined to give rise to sculptured, sun kissed human flesh. Toned muscles, a body that many would kill for. Whiskey orbs trailed down the chiseled chest and the rippling abs, slowing before Stiles soon found himself turning a rather distinct shade of rosy pink.

He quickly looked away, hiding his face in his palms as he made sure to not focus on the anatomy of the man before him.

"What are you doing stalking in the middle of the night so close to the full moon, you -idiot-?" The distinct growl of annoyance that belonged to none other than Derek Hale tore him out of his reverie.

And this was a moment Stiles would never forget. The night he almost got his head bitten off by a ferocious alpha and the night he got an eye full of Derek's perfect naked body.

" _Oh my god._ " He squeaked before squeezing his eyes shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: And that's it for chapter 9! I hope it answers some questions and keeps you hooked. I had to go back through my research and notes to find most of the ideas and plans that I had for this fic. I'd appreciate some feedback! I am aware my writing style may have changed- let me know if it's noticeable or for the better or worse. Many thanks!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Heyy, I know it's been a while. Here's an update- although I have been super busy with college applications so my time's been scarce. I have had the time to review my work and go on mass edit. The content should be more enjoyable now! Moving on... Enjoy!

There was a distinctly awkward silence in the animal clinic. Stiles sat over the examination table, his feet dangling restlessly over the edge. Amber eyes darted from the ground to the now dressed Derek.

The man wore grey sweatpants and a dark navy hoody. His arms crossed over his wide chest and his face set in its trademark scowl. Steely green eyes settled on him, making Stiles the recipient of a rather intimidating expression.

Stiles cleared his throat and ducked his head forward, reaching up to run his numb fingers through his short-cropped hair. Well this is awkward. I mean sure, so maybe Stiles creeping towards the animal clinic late at night without any warning what so ever was suspicious. Well, arguably rather than suspicious this was on a whole new level of stupid. Certainly tips the scale in comparison to the other stupid Stiles did. But still. He had a legitimate reason! Besides! They should tell people about having secret shifting training sessions! Put a sign up or something…

Stiles was brought out of his musing when the door clicked open and the local vet and resident druid walked in. His expression was heavily guarded and his eyes shaded with something akin to exhaustion. Stiles was being optimistic, if he were to be completely honest, he'd have admitted that the expression was definitely tilted more towards the irritated side of things.

Stiles stood firm in the belief that he wasn't in the wrong. It was probably this very train of thought that started everything. He hadn't really considered until that precise moment that this was probably one of the strangest predicaments he's ever experienced.

There he was, Stiles Stilinski, token human extraordinaire sitting in what looked like a ravaged room in the middle of the night, being glared at by an alpha werewolf that could have easily fallen out of a GQ magazine. Not to mention said wolf was prone to inflicting bodily harm on his poor delicate human body and let's not forget his habit of compulsively eluding to rip Stiles' throat out. With his teeth.

There was also the look in the resident druid's gaze. The wise man was eyeing him as though he were an idiot, an idiot that surpassed most idiotic idiots. A lord amongst regular idiots.

If anyone last week had sat Stiles down and told him that he wasn't human, seemed to cause all werewolves to become raging hormonal douchebags and that he'd come a mere few feet away from Derek's naked package, he would have likely laughed so hard he doubled over and gave himself an aneurism.

And promptly been carted off to Eichen house and checked in for permanent residency.

Stiles exhaled deeply, his shoulders slumping as his thoughts grew rampant and he found the need to mentally scold himself to keep him grounded in preparation for the awkward conversation that was sure to come.

He didn't have to wait long before the silence was broken. His eyes darted up towards the vet's briefly before the ground seemed to have grown increasingly interesting.

"Mr. Stilinski… I don't believe I was expecting you."

Stiles swallowed, his throat suddenly dry as his mind raced a million miles an hour to come up with an appropriate response.

"Uh…" There was a brief pause as his eyes flickered over to Derek. Lying wasn't an option, so he had to warp the truth into a partially honest version. "I came looking for answers."

The druid's gaze settled on him. The druid placed his hand on the counter, running his finger over the surface and rubbing the mountain ash between his thumb and index finger.

"And what answers do you presume I have?"

"Well…" He averted his eyes, watching Derek's stoic and unchanging expression. "You see…" He felt his palms go moist and he tugged at his collar. His eyes lit up with an idea.

"Private… Matters…" He said this slowly, being careful to pronounce the words clearly as his eyes focused on the alpha.

Stiles' knew that provoking the wolf was probably not the best idea in the world. However, if there was one thing he was certain of, it was the wolf's temper. Scott told him that Derek's anchor was anger.

Stiles shifted slightly, he'd just have to chance body harm against keeping his newly found powers secret.

Derek's scowl seemed to deepen and his fangs seemed to grow as he let out a rumbling growl. Stiles huffed, crossing his arms and turning his nose up at the wolf.

"Private, sourworlf. Private."

Stiles chanced a glance at the man only to see his claws extending and his fingers flex back and forth.

"I am the alpha!" He roared and Stiles flinched slightly, his eyes squinting as he leveled Derek with a glance. How should he approach this? He wondered before he shrugged lightly. Sarcasm was the answer to all things Stiles.

"Really Derek? I didn't know. It's not like I was there when you slit Peter's throat…. And I definitely haven't seen those red glowing eyes, let's not forget your constant reminders and your rather terrifying display of werewolf shifting. Oh and by the way, you should have taken some clot-" His voice came out dryer than usual but that was all it took. Derek was on him in instant. Holding his body off the ground with a firm grip around his neck.

Stiles gasped, his hands wrapping around Derek's wrist to pull himself up and alleviate the pressure the wolf put on his neck. He coughed and squeezed his eyes shut. His pulse raced and he stilled, waiting patiently for the blow that was bound to come.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Stiles." The druid's voice rang through the pounding of his heart in his ears. "It's not wise to challenge an alpha during their first full shift."

The druid moved around the counter, slowly making his way over to the two. "They're impulsive, the inner wolf holding more sway… Making them primal and increasingly dangerous."

Stiles gave a light nod, his eyes prickled as the pressure on his throat restricted his ability to breath. Agonizing seconds ticked on before Stiles was unceremoniously tossed down.

The teen wheezed, rubbing his throat as he gulped for air. His eyes were wide with alarm. He glanced up at Derek and scrambled back to put the examination table between himself and the angry wolf. Not that it would do much, if the wolf really did want to get to him. But with all the supernatural madness, he'd gotten accustomed to seeking comfort from the little things. Regardless of how meaningless they were in the given situations.

A low guttural growl reverberated from the alpha's chest before his words cut through him.

"What were you doing here Stiles?"

Stiles struggled to reign in his emotions as his whiskey brown eyes rose to meet Derek's green. He was afraid. Derek had always instilled a manner of fear in him. The teen leaned back, inching away. His hands clenched into fists as rage pooled in his stomach, intertwining and struggling against the fear that had taken hold of him.

"I want to know why Peter, Scott, Jackson and Isaac attacked me." He said calmly as Derek's brow shot up but his expression remained guarded.

He turned to face Deaton.

"I want to know why they seemed to think they're _entitled_ to treat me as they see fit." His eyes hardened as he focused on Derek.

"I am not something you wolves possess. I am not a token or your pack's omega. Hell! I am not even _in_ your pack."

Stiles inhaled deeply, gaining in confidence as his anger took over.

"I am Stiles Stilinksi, son of Claudia and I posses the spark."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, here’s a quick update just to thank the lovely reviewers for their kind words.

Chapter 11

Stiles exhaled as he plopped down onto his bed. He let out an aggravated cry and shot back up, pacing around his room in an attempt to still his anxiety. 

“Who the hell does that sourwolf bastard think he is?!” He yelled to no one in particular. He reached up and ran his fingers through his short-cropped hair, tensing his jaw and exhaling deeply as he relayed what happened only a few hours back. 

When Stiles had declared what he was. There was an eerie silence in the room, Derek’s eyes narrowed and the reverberating growl in his throat rose in fervor and he looked like he meant to rip the table between them in half before tearing him apart. Stiles recalled the fire in his eyes, the intense and primal rage at being defied. 

Derek’s hands had gripped the table so tightly, his claws penetrated through the iron as though it were a knife cutting through butter. Stiles’ heart sped up as he recalled the memory, just as it had when Derek was but a few feet from him. Stiles clenched his fist as he recalled the petty attempt he tried to deter Derek. 

For all his brave and defiant talk he had subconsciously tilted his head, exposing his neck to Derek. This seemed to calm the alpha, if only enough to prolong his young life just a little longer. He blamed the overindulgent research he did about wolf behavior for his subconscious reactions. 

Derek moved around the table as he stalked towards Stiles. Slow and arrogant he took one step after another, dragging his nails across the metal surface of the table. Stiles shivered at the memory, Derek had come towards him as a predator would when circling cornered prey. Stiles steeled his resolve and his fingers rubbed against thumb, friction building as he prepared to use the same incantation he used on Peter should he have been forced to defend himself.

Stiles had watched him wearily and his eyes widened when Derek had leaned down, elongated fangs stretching outwards as it seemed he was about to take a chunk out of his neck. And of course, Stiles had panicked and jumped back only to be flattened against the wall by Derek’s palm. 

“Don’t.” Derek’s voice was menacing and low. “Forget who’s the alpha, Stiles.” His eyes turned a piercing red and another low snarl left his lips before he continued. “You may have a spark but you’re still human.” And with a forceful tug of his shirt, Stiles was tossed aside. Stunned and terrified, he remained sprawled on the ground, scrambling back until his back was against the metal cabinet. 

Stiles cursed himself, he had been preparing the spell and yet he was too cowardly to cast it when it came down to it. In hindsight, it was probably for the best. Derek was fast. Derek was strong. If Stiles had dared to set him on fire, it wouldn’t have been half as effective. After all, let’s not forget Peter had a distinctly vivid trauma when it came to fire. And provoking the primal alpha would have eminently left a very dead Stiles. 

Derek had watched him, an unreadable expression on his face as he moved and turned to leave. 

Stiles threw his hands in the air in exasperation and frustration. “What an asshole!” He cursed, kicking at the edge of his bed as the memory relayed itself. 

To make matters worse, Deaton had only stood there. Stiles had all but pleaded for some answers after Derek was gone but the druid was tight lipped. Clearly, he was one to align himself with Scott and for some reason or another Derek- It was probably Isaac. The connection between him and Scott meant indirect ties to Derek too. 

All he said was: “Stiles, you need to understand that the spark is something that is unique to every creature.” Stiles had remained silent for a moment before he asked whether there was a general guide. Of course he was met with a flat stare. “It is the essence that makes you who you are that determines your spark. You must discover the extent of your abilities on your own, it is not something that can be interfered with. This will come from within you. From your own strength of heart and spirit.”

Stiles groaned as he sat back down on the bed, mulling over the druid’s words. Whiskey brown eyes flickered towards the mysterious book that started everything. 

Stiles had asked about the book too. And Deaton only smiled and said; “The Apollodorus Pseudo Liber can only reveal what you are capable of handling.” There was a pause before the Druid elaborated. “The book can only nurture and guide your personal development. It does not contain the all the answers, it simply illuminates them from within the reader.”

Stiles faltered at the time, wondering if it was due to his lack of resolve. But perhaps that was the will of the book. Perhaps Deaton knew that the book expected Stiles to decipher the magic within him on his own. 

Stiles exhaled deeply and grudgingly got off his bed, manoeuvring around his chair and dropping into it. There wasn’t much he could do as it is and he wasn’t in any mood to tackle any sort of research. 

A glimmering light caught his eye and he blinked, leaning over and moving the sheets of paper aside. Stiles groaned and reached across to grab his phone. He hadn’t checked it since he rushed out of school after trapping wolves indefinitely in a circle of mountain ash and setting the most terrifying man in beacon hills on fire. 

 

With his heart speeding up to a dangerous rate, he unlocked his phone and gawked at the extent of messages, voicemails and miscalls. He blinked a few times. Most of them were from Scott, followed by a close second from Isaac. Surprisingly, in a rude and indirect way, Jackson tried to apologize too.

Oh good… Detailed implications about Peter’s rage too. Wonderful. Just grand. Made his day, that. 

Just as he was about to toss his phone away and resign himself to living the rest of his life in his room, his phone vibrated in his hand. Curious, he indulged himself and was relieved to find it was from Danny. Something within Stiles deflated and soon found himself relaxing- well, as much as one could given the current circumstances. His calculating eyes trailed over the message’s contents and he found himself smiling lightly. 

“Aw, what a nice guy.” Stiles read over the words and typed his reply. 

“Fuck it.” He muttered. He’d be damned before he let himself submit to the whims of a bunch of selfish bastards. There was no point in staying cooped up in here like frightened prey. He was going out with good old human, Danny. 

 

Stiles glanced at his reflection. He skimmed his fingers through his tousled brown hair and sighed. There wasn’t much he could do to make himself look any better. Amber eyes trailed over his dark jeans and the plain white t-shirt he had on. With a sigh he grabbed his red hoody and slipped his arms into the sleeves.

Too lost within the confines of his thoughts, Stiles hadn’t notice neither the darkening shade of his hair nor the faint glow of his eyes. The change was subtle, but it was certainly there. Even the tone of his skin seems to have changed. 

Despite his efforts and regardless of just how alluring he sometimes appeared, Stiles had a severely lacking amount of confidence when it came to his physical qualities. He wasn’t –shameful- but he seemed to be surrounded by men and woman sculptured by an artisan. Rippling muscles, lovely tanned skin, sparkling eyes and perfect hair. And lets not get started on just how stunning the women seemed to be- particularly Allison, Lydia and Erica. 

Stiles trotted down the stairs. He reached for the counter and grabbed his keys, tucking the metal in his pocket before slouching and making his way out the door. The cool night air hit him like a wave of icy water. He shivered and glanced around, tilting his head up to glance at the ominously shaped gibbous moon. A shiver traveled down his spine and he glanced around. 

He had this nagging feeling that Peter or one of the other wolves was loitering outside his house. The awkward teen reached up and slapped his cheeks, “Alright Stiles, you’re just being paranoid.” He assured himself and hopped into his jeep. 

He slipped the key into the ignition and reversed out of his driveway, speeding along to the empty road to meet Danny and his friends. 

Electric blue eyes followed the run down jeep and a shadow stepped out of the tree line. A deep howl echoed through the cool evening and the shadowed figure leapt up into the brush as it followed his trail. 

 

The rancid scent of death seeped from the depth of a cavern hidden in the Cliffside deep within the reserve. A figure shrouded in in a haze of smoke glided across the clattering floors. The bones of many, humans and animal alike littered the ground as the hunched figure froze, unfocused silted eyes flickered around nervously. 

“It’s here…” A hideous, crooked smile revealed the yellow bloodied fangs as the creature turned to face the faintly illuminated exit. 

 

Stiles drove silently, slowing down his trusty jeep before stopping for a red light; the teen exhaled lightly, tugging at the collar of his t-shirt. He swallowed thickly and run his thumb over his bottom lip. He could feel the heat seeping towards the surface of his skin. His eyes shimmered lightly, the whiskey amber glinting silver as his eyes caught sight of the moon. 

He felt his breath quicken and his body warm as he gazed up into the sky, his clothes felt constricting against his flesh. His thumb trailed over his lip slowly and his lips parted. A glazed sheen covered his eyes and he felt the sudden urge to move forward, shifting closer towards the light. 

Stiles snapped out of his daze when a car zoomed past him, horns blaring as a man yelled through his window. 

“It’s green asshole!” 

Stiles blinked out of his daze, shaking his head out of his hazy thoughts and glancing up at the lights-which were indeed green. He shook his head again and lightly pushed his foot down on the pedal, driving forward.

 

The blue-eyed creature stopped as the jeep did, lurking behind the tree line. They watched the teenager. He seemed ordinary for the most part. Nothing particularly strange or distinctly attractive about him- but they were sure. There was a scent that led them to that house. Something they could not even begin to explain- a deep seated and compelling scent. 

The creature froze as wave after wave of endorphins assaulted their senses like a freight train. A rumbled growl left their lips as their eyes focused on the jeep. There it was. The scent. Electric blue eyes drank in the form of the teenage boy and his appearance seemed to have suddenly become sinful. 

His skin glowed an ethereal pale silver, in the light of the moon he was almost camouflaged, syncing with its rays. The creature could hear his breathing, could almost feel the way his body was flushed and warm. The urge was unbearable. The figure stalked towards the jeep from the clearing, it’s mind focused on doing one thing. 

Just as they neared the clearing, a car zoomed past and tore the teen out of their unfocused haze. The creature blinked a few times, crouching beneath the brush. Their eyes alit with unbridled fire. What had happened was nothing short of sorcery. 

What that kid was doing was not a silly game. It was not a coincidence. Not a potion or an illusion. He had bewitched them, if only for a moment. The creature was growling low in their throat- if the teen was unaware of what he were doing, which the creature strongly believed. Then he would die an untimely death. 

The creature couldn’t allow it. The sheriff’s son’s blood was theirs to spill and theirs alone. As the teenager sped on towards his destination, the creature followed from the tree line, a renewed purpose to their actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s chapter 11. I know it’s taking a while to build up to more. However, Stiles needs to understand his powers. Not to mention, this is the last days of school in June. The Darach and Alpha incidents only occur after the summer holidays when Allison returns from Paris. So we’ve got quite the build up- unless you prefer a bit of a time skip? Yes or no? Also… If one of the more critical readers is willing to help me, I am looking for a Beta/Editor. I’ve re-read the story thus far and found several places that need work so if someone’s willing drop me a message.


End file.
